


My Everyday

by Caranella



Category: Morrissey (Musician), The Smiths
Genre: Fanfiction, First Person, Morrissey - Freeform, One Shot, The Smiths - Freeform, moz - Freeform, steven patrick morrissey - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 08:27:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6559300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caranella/pseuds/Caranella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was just something I came up with from the top of my head. As a disclaimer, this is a work of fiction and just my general impression of what Morrissey feels and thinks. Only he knows for real, the rest is my personal opinion and intellectual guesswork. </p>
<p>I hope you enjoy it~</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Everyday

Every day is like this, more or less. To an outsider, my life would be anything but dreary and normal. It would be desirable, glamourous, fantastical... to have so many, many wondrous opportunities. I can assure you that it is not. Far from it, really.

Today also, I feel an incomprehensible dread weighing over my shoulders, like some enormous object has been pretentiously dropped from the sky onto my now limp and desecrated body. It cannot be moved, and as a result I, too, am immovable. But don't take this as a sign that I am some pessimistic, self-pitying child- the frequency with which I am defined as such astounds me.

Ah, my cat has come to say hello to me. That's far more than anyone I've ever known would bother to do, but human touch is no comfort. Does he know that I am caught between the extremes of happiness and sadness, neither feeling nor desiring one over the other? Perhaps not, yet there seems to be an innate compassion in animals which repeatedly and immediately draws me to their side. I'm sure you would agree with me, small one. If only you could commune with me, perhaps a legitimate friendship could be readily obtained.

Why am I allowing the silence to creep up upon me again? I know very well that the absence of sound means that my thoughts will scream at me very loudly and endlessly. It is not that they ever refrain themselves from filling my poor, poor head, however. I simply do my uttermost to maintain a false sense of clarity and pretend I am not restless (Though of course it's never occurred to me that I'll never have the peace I crave so desperately. Why on earth would I make such a brash assumption? Silly, silly, silly of you.)

Mmm... I really am tired of being betrayed. What have I done wrong? Oh, but why ask that. Why ask that at all. I know why. I know why. My actions, my words, my decisions, my image. The reality of being unfathomably "me." These all work together to create a person most despicable and completely unworthy of both praise and hatred. That's why I will continue to ignore everyone around me. It's much safer to be alone. No one to judge you. No one to hurt you. No one nearby and stalking, ready to call out your name your name whilst you need to forget. Forget that it represents an existence you so pettily, forcibly, and clumsily control.

Have I told others that I am not bitter or angry for being birthed and brought to life? I believe so. Is it true? Well, sometimes. Yet at moments like these, I find myself wishing to unleash endless wrath towards those who ruined me. Though I know I cannot. Irritated as I am, irritated as I may be, and act upon it as I may, I still restrain myself exponentially. As the one who is ugly, disgusting, irrelevant, average, and plain, is myself.

I've spent far too much time handing myself over to anyone who wants me, deciphering nothing, radiating naivety. I have loved, I do love, I will love. But now, in this moment which stretches across an eternity, it seems to have gone from me. For to love is to be abandoned fully without explanation, to become a pawn and a tool for personal restoration via unchecked pride, and to ever remain a shadow in the corner nary to be glanced at and sure to be walked over without any conviction.

I am hated for loving. I just don't belong, do I?

Ah, enough madness. Let us click the radio on and drift away. Perhaps there I shall find some semblance of sanity and a hope in life restored. After all, music will never leave you behind in the dust. Hello again, my dearest friend. If I stay here forever, is it so bad? Is it so wrong?


End file.
